As parents, we treasure our children’s firsts. Their first word, their first step, their first day of school so we finally have six blessed hours without Disney, tea parties and requests to be wiped.
It’s some of the repeats we can do without.
Like band concerts.
And dance recitals.
And school plays.
My Love and I have attended four of these in the last month. That’s the average I expect for this time of the year for the next, oh, decade or so. Ten. More. Years.
On the plus side, enduring a couple hours at these events immediately improves my seasonal allergies and sinus pain. Children’s performances are like Benadryl injected directly into one’s artistic senses. It leaves you dull and drowsy but ultimately feeling better about your own limited ability to perform. Warning: Do not operate heavy machinery or karaoke machines while under the influence of this drug.
Listen, I think the Things are the most gifted and talented children in all of Uncool Nation. And I’m sure you think your kids have skills of near equal awesomeness. I bet they make you swell up with pride when they saw out “Mary Had a Little Lamb” like a little Itzhak Perlmans or they bust a move sweeter than Cheryl Burke no matter how inappropriate the song choice is for their age or gender:
(SIDENOTE: I might need to start a regular feature dedicated to performances of or to “My Sharona” by The Knack made in questionable taste.)
But, between you and me, everyone else’s kids … on the whole … they stink.
Ah, you agree.
Yet we endure. We sit through 4th graders butchering Miles Davis, 6-year-olds forgetting the words to “I’m a Little Teapot," and even worse. We do it because we know our children need our support. We sit there giving wickedly sharp elbow jabs to our spouses so they will stop playing with their cool new iPhones and force their eyes upon the stage because we remember our own parents having to do the same.
Yes, we remember how well our parents taught us.
Taught us about guilt, suffering and enduring pain.
Well played, you sneaky old evil geniuses, you. Well frickin’ played.
Either of my kids butcher Miles Davis, they can pack their sh*t and hit the bricks. Excellent benadryl analogy.
ReplyDeleteI'm with Homemaker Man - don't let the door hit your ass!
ReplyDeleteAlso, I feel no guilt, but definitely suffering. And a deep swell of what I think is love, but it's buried under pain.
:)
Great post, and so very true. Hours upon hours of dance recitals, clumsy gymnastics exhibitions and GOD KNOWS HOW MANY slipshod productions of the Wizard of Oz where my daughter invariably always plays a munchkin. It never ends, and I'm pretty sure my parents are laughing behind my back. Damn them.
ReplyDeleteand thanks to those faithful parents, think about how long we went on believing we had actual talent, were practically professionals! surely we can pay that forward.
ReplyDeleteWe are fortunate because our elementary band director has had the exact same program for the last 75 years. So when the first note of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" pierces your inner ear, you know it's only 12 minutes (they play 1/4 tempo) until you can hug your smiling lil' munchkin and haul ass to the parking lot for a mad dash of SUV Chicken.
ReplyDeleteAs an aunt, I have the opposite reaction, even about the other kids. If you don't own one, they're fun to watch.
ReplyDeleteAw fuck, man. Thanks for ruining the Knack for me forever. Hilarious post.
ReplyDeleteWe are quickly approaching this stage in Anna's life. I am scared.
ReplyDeleteMy sister dragged me to one of my niece's dance recitals once.
ReplyDeleteJust once. That's all I could take. I told her to lose my phone number after that.
whatever happened to children should be seen and not heard?
ReplyDeletesorry. i'm still hung over from a week of spring performance, field day and a visit to the school fair with all the rides and food and games and good lawd, we're marching in the memorial day parade ~eeek!
Great post. It gives me something to think about and fear for several years.
ReplyDeleteI feel your pain. Sat through a 3.5 hour high school band concert a few weeks ago. The kids are talented at that age and all, but seriously, 3.5 hours??
ReplyDeleteI can relate. I just spent three hours watching dozens of Girl Scout troops walk over a bridge. My wife wouldn't let me leave after our daughter crossed.
ReplyDeleteThe oldest is two, and right now I can't get enough of his public displays of Counting to Ten. He's like a little math genius!
ReplyDeleteThere's a trend now where people stay long enough for their kid, and then leave. When my kid is one of the last to go and it's pretty much me and his sister and a couple of other parents left in the room, I can't even say that I'm upset - because I get it.
ReplyDeleteI'm right there with ya. I guess I should set up for a double dose. I'm getting my Benedryl ready as I type.
ReplyDeleteThe one and only performance I can remember being a part of in school was The Seasons. It was an educational play about,well -- the seasons. I played the vernal equinox! HAHAHAHHA. My parents must have been so proud.
ReplyDeleteI think there should be some kind of rule wherein it states one shouldn't dance to songs that include the line "...the touch of a younger kind" unless one's age is more than one digit.
ReplyDeleteOMG that was funny. they looked like drunk spark plugs at the very end.
ReplyDeletemy sharona? wow. two or three things here.
love the song. super edgy and cool. especially back in the day. i think that was a late 70s deal, right?
even at the tender age of 8, i knew the song was DIRTY. i cannot BELIEVE it was in that talent show.
it reminded me of this mega hottie fifth grader named Fiona. i used to sing the song to her.
oddly, i never managed to win her over.